Last weekend, I was lolling the day away (please read as loll-ing as in the real meaning of loll, but if you read it as LOL-ing, I think that's actually OK too) in Callicoon, NY! Also, I tagged #calicoon wrong one too many time on Instagram. Learn from my mistakes. It's CaLlicoon, with two L's.

After five days in Antwerp, I feel like I know the city better than any other I've visited. I remember when I was researching it, I read that Antwerp was "pocket-sized" and I love those words for describing this tiny, adorable city. You can walk from top to bottom in maybe 40 minutes at a New York pace.

Everyone in my family has lived a good chunk of their lives in Western NY except for me. They can all discuss things like "white hots" or pronounce Native American names like Cheektowaga and Lackawanna without the slightest pause. A divide remains, however, as to whether it's "soda" or "pop."

This is difficult and emotional for me to write, but I felt like I couldn't blog about other things until I wrote down some thoughts about our recent trip to Paris; a trip that had me and Danny pretty close to the attacks that occurred on November 13.

My dogs had a very fun weekend up in the Catskills. I did too, of course, but the dogs really had fun. Like, they woke up the instant the sun rose and begged to go outside to play. It was very cute. I am very sleepy. But it was very cute.

I loved everything about Copenhagen. Even when I had one of those travel days where I got lost and had to pee and got too hungry to stop anywhere and just ended up walking miles and then settling on a frozen pizza from the convenience store, I was having a good time. Denmark was cozy and sweater-worthy, even in the beginning of June when days were long and people were shedding layers.

I'm guessing that sprit translates to "spirit." As in alcohol. But I can't say for sure because I spent most of my time in Stockholm loosely translating words in my head from Swedish into English. And when things got confusing, a kind Swede would pop in, speaking English with a polite smile, and make it all clear for me. (I know: damn my American ego and god bless the super-nice Swedes.) Anyway, the Spritmuseum (or, Spirit Museum) is on an island called Djurgården. What's cool is that this entire island is packed with museums and things to see. There's little else—no residential property, subways don't go there. It's just a sightseeing island. Whoever planned this city was a total genius. "Keep the tourists over here," they thought. Imagine if Times Square, the Empire State Building and The Bronx Zoo were all on Governor's Island. (Riiiight? Genius!)

Danny and I recently went to Copenhagen and Stockholm for nine days. The trip snuck up on us—well, it was sort of a surprise in the first place. Dan was invited to speak at a conference, so we whipped together a trip and a few weeks later, were on the redeye to Denmark. We threw in the detour to Stockholm just for fun.

This Memorial Day weekend, I got to assist my photographer friend Alexis Buatti Ramos on two photo sessions with families up in Westchester. Because natural light is best first thing in the morning and in early evening, the shoots were spaced out by about six hours, which meant we had lots of time to kill. Luckily, we were in one of the most gorgeous and food-filled areas of the state with a few fancy cameras in tow.

It appears that stuffed meatballs are becoming a little mini trend. I've seen them pop up on my Twitter feed a few times in the past month, whether filled with oozy mozzarella cheese, basil pesto or meatloaf-sized and stuffed with cooked spaghetti. That last iteration is a little overboard, even for me, but I am very interested in the cheese-stuffed variety, especially since I tasted them at Little Nonna's in Philadelphia a few weeks ago. It also helps that I'm pretty sure Little Nonna's incredible meatballs are not only stuffed with melted cheese, but also tasted-- and I could be wrong-- like they were maybe deep-fried. Incredible...like meaty arancini.